Lent - Day 3

Today I took a vacation day from work. I had awaken early and had a wondrous surprise:

Snowfall!

Considering it was warm enough to wear a sweater or sweatshirt with no jacket outside, this was indeed a pleasant surprise. We've had such a shortage of snowfall this year, that even those that hate shoveling miss it.

I harvested the last of my Farmville crops this morning to go into another hiatus from the addicting (and distracting) game. I then started to poke about the virtual farm, arranging and re-arranging things like a doll-house for grown ups. It wasn't until the fourth time the system crashed that I got a clue. There was something I was missing...

Outside lay a golden opportunity; one that was rare this winter. That was helping my neighbors shovel. How often have I allowed myself to be distracted and missed these golden opportunities?

One of the lessons I've learned earlier this morning points directly to this. I've been asked to stop multi-tasking while I am talking with people or working on something. I must admit, even my prayers would be done via multi-tasking, such as I would say grace while setting up to eat or say my morning prayers as I stumbled through the apartment half-asleep to the bathroom. Not very respectful. 

Not only is this how I miss many opportunities, I AM being disrespectful, to God, to Yeshua (Jesus) and to all others. I need to step away from the distractions and really start give 100% of my attention to what is around me, and who is around me, what they say and what they need. I may regret I can not stand before a full church and preach, nor even afford to go on mission trips. Yet there are countless opportunities to help so many people in my life - everyday.

Today begins with shoveling; I tugged on my snow boots and grabbed the shovel. Our steps and walkway, as well as those of our elderly neighbors, are now clear and liberally sprinkled with salt. My husband went out and cleared off the cars as well.

Who knows what else there may be when we set the computer and cell phone aside, shut off the radio and TV and just observe, just listen. 

It's a beautiful day.

I plan to make the most of it.

Carpe Diem. :D

~ ESA

Lent - Day 2

On Wednesday, I left some stuff to do at work. I promised I would get to work early Thursday and get them done before the boss got there. I left an hour early, but I didn't get there early.

Instead I was given an opportunity to help someone. On the walk to work, another woman walked up to me and asked directions to a place I haven't heard about before. She was on her way to work and had just gotten off the bus. She knew it was off this particular road. Unfortunately the road was a few short blocks down in one direction (which I knew well) and then stretched 16 miles (26 km) in the other direction.

After realizing we would not find the place talking about it and this woman may have to walk several miles to reach her destination. I offered to get my car and drive her. After all, I really didn't need to be at work for another hour.

We walked back to my apartment complex and got into my old Jeep. I joked about the rust spots and radio that doesn't play; she commented that I was fortunate to have a car at all. She takes the bus whenever she needs to get someplace. We drove all the way down the road and back, missing the turn at first pass. On the way, we pointed out the bus stop locations so we would know the closest one to her new workplace.

On the way back, though, she suddenly suggested I turn up another road. To our surprise, while we didn't find the road we needed, we found the public bus waiting between runs. In fact, it was the same bus driver that dropped her off. He scolded the woman for getting into the car with a stranger. She pointed out that until she got onto his bus that morning, he was a stranger too. So he conceded the point.

Upon hearing that we still could not find this place, he looked up directions on his cell phone and walked over to my Jeep to pass them onto me. I recognized the streets and turns and could figure out from there where this place was. Needless to say, she got to work on time, as well as I did.

There were three Good Samaritans that day. Not only did I help the woman, she helped me by giving me an opportunity to help another. Our mutual help also inspired the bus driver who could have simply said "No, I don't know," and closed the door in her face. Instead, he got out his phone to help us find this place.

One good deed does inspire others.

~ ESA

Lent - Day 1

I guess I'm off to a slow start with both Lent as well as the blog. I'll add a few posts this morning to "catch up" with the blog. Lent traditionally begins with Ash Wednesday. It also marks the start of my personal 40-day fast.

We planned to attend a 12:15 Mass where I would take a slightly longer lunch break from work and meet him at the Church. This old mare stumbled out of the starting gate. I had completely forgotten and ate a few pieces of bread and butter for breakfast, as well as a handful of peanuts late in the morning.

Then I heard a reminder over the radio, where they mentioned Ash Wednesday. I told myself I needed to remember to go to church. My alarm went off at Noon, but I continued to do what I was working on "to finish one more thing." That one thing became another, and another. Next thing I know, Mass is about to start and I was already late.

I called my husband as I dashed out the door. He was still at home, cooking lunch and as oblivious as I was that it was Ash Wednesday. We met at the church and walked in to Mass together.

While I was there, a thought had occurred to me. While I botched it the first few hours, there was still a long run ahead of me. This stumble is not the end; it's a greater challenge at the start.

And I am not alone; Yeshua (Jesus) is with me. I had a cute image shared, where Yeshua lifts up a younger sibling so they could reach the cookie jar high on the shelf. It's something a big brother would do for those He loves.

Where will Lent take me on the journey this year? I don't know. But with Yeshua at my side, it will be something wonderful.

Maybe there will be cookies too.

~ ESA :D

Confession

I realized that Yeshua (Jesus) wants me reconciled with the Church. While I go Sunday's, I've not participated in other aspects. Confession within the church was one. This was a step I needed to take. I did go to Confession two weekends ago, but I have been remiss in sharing it.

I was still nervous that Saturday. I had prayed many times for guidance. It came via my husband. We talked a long time about why I have such a grudge against the Church. Unlike many who have been vocal against the Church, it's not the sex scandals with the Catholic priests. Some grudges have to do with the exclusion of women in the priesthood, perhaps dating back to my day when girls could not serve on the altar as they do now. But this morning, I have realized much of what I know of the Church stems from many years of Catholic school and a strict Catholic upbringing where I was forced to follow customs and observances with very little insight as to why they were done. I was simply told, because this is what we believe and what we do. Period. 

It's no wonder I rebelled and walked away once I reached adulthood.

When we got to church, I prayed again before getting in line. When I got into line at the confessional, I wasn't quite sure of the procedure. Instead of a line along one wall, there was a cluster of people sitting or kneeling in the pews near the confessional lights: a white light and a red light. So, checking my growing nervousness, I asked one of the women sitting there if she was waiting for Confession or for the Mass which was to begin right after. When she admitted she was waiting for Confession, I mentioned that I wasn't too familiar with how things were done and - sheepishly - admitted it's been 23 years since my last Confession. She smiled broadly and said, "Wow! Welcome back!" and then went over some things I needed to know.

I was told I was lucky for this particular priest was "easy." I am still not sure if she meant that he was easy to talk to or didn't give strict penance after the confession. While this woman was my age, there was another young woman, perhaps 14 - 16 years of age, that overheard our conversation. She added what she knew of the process. She mentioned that she prefers the face-to-face confession.

Face-to-face???

We told her confessional experiences from the old days, including my last time. The priest would sit in a box the size of a very small coat closet, no bigger than the door in width and only deep enough for a small wooden seat and his legs. Those who went to confession would go behind a dark heavy curtain, through which all others in line could hear the whispers of your confession. The room behind the curtain was VERY dark, it was akin in size to the priest's box. There was a wooden or cushioned kneeler (place where one would kneel) on either side adjacent the priest's box. When the confessional was vacated, the next in line would enter, draw the curtain closed behind them and kneel in the dark facing a metal mesh screen with a wooden panel between the screen and the priest. Some had a candle or tiny electric light over the Act of Contrition prayer taped to the wall beside the metal screen. But the light was covered in such a way that the light only shone down directly on the words. The rest of the tiny room was pitch blackness.

There the penitent would wait. One could hear the whispers of the priest and the one currently confessing their sins on the other side of the priest. It could be a long wait or a very short one. You never knew. You could also hear the shuffle of impatient feet outside the curtain sometimes. You waited... Not knowing... Wondering... Trying to remember everything you came to confess...

Then there was a sudden scrape of wood against metal sliders as the priest slid open the window on your side. You did not see a face. If your eyes were good, you might make out a silhouette through the metal bars of the screen. But mostly it was a dark prison cell; you were essentially in hell.

Some priests listened in silence, which made it seem all the more disapproving of your presence and the things you said. Others would sigh or make *tsk tsk* noises at you. I guess these were to make one ashamed of their sins and turn the person away from such behavior. It made me loathe to go to Confession. I found much more love, acceptance and "You can do better; take hold of my hand, and you can go beyond this" from confessing directly to Yeshua.

But I was told by the elder woman, things are much different now. Before she went in, she jokingly added that she's glad that she's ahead of me: less time to wait. I smiled and thanked her for her help. When she came out I jokingly quipped, "You didn't have to rush on my account." She smiled and laughed.

Then it was my turn.

They had built the new confessional at this church about a decade ago to accommodate handicapped people. Instead of the tiny boxes along the wall of the church, this was a short hallway off the church, nice and wide for a wheelchair. At the start, there were the two lights mentioned above. Red for occupied; white for available. At the other end of the hallway, there was a door to the left and a large window to the right. This was a plain glass window that looked out on the bushes and lawn outside the church, it was comforting. I swallowed, took hold of the doorknob and opened the door.

The room was the size of my home office - it wasn't this tiny box that I expected at all. About two-thirds of the way down the room, there was this wall-type partition that went halfway across the width of the room. On my side of the wall, there was a modern kneeler and metal screen with a white cloth covering it to conceal the priest sitting behind it. There no longer was the whispered conversations, the priest was simply waiting for me alone.

Instead of the dark room, all in the room was brightly lit where one could easily read. There was even flowers on either side of the kneeler. In the far corner, there was also a chair that one could sit in and face the priest. It looked comfortable, more as one would expect in a counselor's office rather than a confessional. 

I stood there for a moment, undecided what to do beyond simply closing the door behind me. Part of me wanted to bolt through the door and let the next one in instead. I don't know if the priest even realized I was still standing beside the door. He simply began the traditional prayer that started the confession ritual similar to when I was a small girl. Following tradition more than thought, I raced over the kneeler and knelt down. 

I started "Forgive me, Father, it has been 23 years since my last confession." I was about to recite all I was prepared to say, but I was interrupted. The priest actually started a conversation with me, starting with "Wow! Welcome back!" I smiled because that was the same response as the woman in line. 

Instead of sticking to the hidebound traditional confession, we actually started having a conversation. I told him why, after all this time, I decided to go back to confession. I mentioned that Yeshua - Jesus - wanted me to go back and reconcile with the Church. He didn't react as though this was strange. I mentioned some of the reasons I had grudges against the Church and the priest freely admitted the Church makes many mistakes in the 2,000 years it's been around. We are all human and not perfect.

I also mentioned that while I haven't been to confession at the church, I did confess directly to Yeshua. He was delighted that I continued to confess my sins and practice reconciliation in private at home. This surprised me and made me second-guess the concept the iron grasp of control the church wanted over people's lives. I also admitted to him that I've been stubborn and wrong to constantly hold on to these grudges over the years. It was in the past and I need to let go and move on, letting the grudges stay in the past. The priest admitted that in our lives, we all tend to think we have learned enough and want our independence, but years later we come back knowing there is still wisdom we can learn from our elders.

I did confess that I've lied as well as other things I have regretted. Then it was time for the priest to determine what would be my penance. This was the part I dreaded. What would be the sentence handed down for all the years away from the church, for all the sins I have committed since then? He simply told me to gaze upon the cross at the front of church and tell Yeshua, "Thank you for your Love." What? That's it??? No litany of prayers. No 100 rounds of the rosary? (I even had my rosary beads with me.) Just 10 statements, that I am thankful for His Love?

When we wrapped things up and it was time for the final prayer, he asked if I wanted to say one of my own. But I guess I was still tradition bound and opted to read the age-old Act of Contrition of my youth. Though through it, I will admit, I was still pretty astounded with the simple request. Maybe I did get off easy... Too easy...

But then the  miraculous and beautiful moment came. Unexpected as it never before happened in Confession. There was a weight lifted from my heart / from my soul, that I did not even know was there. I had grown used to it. It was lifted as the priest said the closing blessing. I was released. Truly released of the past in a way I cannot describe. It was lightening and beautiful. This wasn't punishment, it was release, reconciliation -- true FORGIVENESS. The past was truly released and gone.

On the way out of the confessional, the women who helped me before gave me the thumbs up and I returned it with a smile. I even suspect that perhaps she said a prayer for me as well. Then I noted that my face was wet. I was crying.

Since then, I admit I have lied (twice), and let a bit of laziness get the better of my actions. But for the most part, I'm doing OK. I'm still learning to get over the past grudges, but the dam of resistance is now cracked and crumbling. I also feel so very free.

Released of the past,
I can make a better future.
~ ESA

Share the Love

Valentine's Day has very much become a couple's or lover's holiday. Sadly, there are far many more hearts in this world that contain a great wealth of love, but are not part of a romantic couple.

Where I work, there are those who have very caring hearts, but not one has a special someone to share tomorrow's heartfelt holiday. Those that have kids, have children that are adults and long since moved out with sweethearts of their own.

These are only a handful of many, many more people who have been deluged with advertisements, mentions, and decorations for a holiday that they feel - quite frankly - left out. No one deserves to be left behind. We should celebrate the Love in everyone's heart.

I ask my readers to join me in some Valentine's Day mischief. We can leave a flower, some sweets, or even just a note with kind words.

Even the simple words, "You are loved" can touch a heart like nothing else on a day like this holiday. Like the card mentioned in my last blogpost, it can be unsigned. God loves them; sometimes they need to hear that they are loved.. Nothing more needs to be said. :)

Please bring a bit of light into another's life tomorrow. Valentine's Day is a celebration of Love - not only the sweetheart holiday.

We all have love inside us.
Let's celebrate it
With all! :D

~ ESA

Valentine Card

On February 10, 2009, I received a package in the mail addressed to me at my work office. I opened it with the rest of the mail and pulled out the card pictured in this blog post. As you can see, it was unsigned.

For the sake of those reading this blogpost via translator (and I am aware pictures do not translate), the outside reads "You hold a special place in God's heart and a special purpose in this world..." The inside reads "...and that makes you irreplaceable."

I nabbed my webcam and took pictures of the outside and inside of the card to send to a friend with whom I was chatting when I received the card. The response to my comment that it wasn't signed was simply, "Does it really need a signature?"

Some of my readers may suspect this friend had sent the card to me. No. This person did not know my work address. In addition, I will admit, that there were other cards in the package. It was part of some card solicitation mailing.

Yet...

That was the first card out of the package, and it had remarkably touched my heart in a way I cannot put into words. To this day, it is still within the pages of my journal at home. These were words I really needed to hear at that moment.

I never received any additional solicitations nor contacts from this card company (and I get a LOT of repeat ones from other card companies). It also touched me that it arrived right before Valentine's Day. The other cards were a birthday, anniversary, get-well, and bereavement card. By simple coincidence, I pulled this card out first from somewhere in the middle of the envelope's contents.

Or was it coincidence?

I know by now God works within my life. When something strikes me as "Wow! God just sent me a message, or touched my life somehow," I don't question it. I smile and thank God for the blessing, the reminder, the help.

None of us are alone; God Loves us, is with us and cares for us - each and every one of us. In addition, there is no "To" name as well as "From" name on the card. I think this is perfect, just as it may have been intended. This card is for each and every one of us. 

We are ALL Special to God.
We ALL have a special purpose in this world.
We are ALL irreplaceable.
God Loves us ALL.

Smile.
Happy Valentine's Day!
-ESA

The Children's Bible in a Nutshell

This is another one that was sent to me via email; enjoy the smiles and chuckles:

___________________________________________________________________________________

Through the eyes of a child:The Children's Bible in a Nutshell

In the beginning, which occurred near the start, there was nothing but God, darkness, and some gas. The Bible says, 'The Lord thy God is one,' but I think He must be a lot older than that.

Anyway, God said, 'Give me a light!' and someone did. Then God made the world.

He split the Adam and made Eve. Adam and Eve were naked, but they weren't embarrassed because mirrors hadn't been invented yet.

Adam and Eve disobeyed God by eating one bad apple, so they were driven from the Garden of Eden. Not sure what they were driven in though, because they didn't have cars.

Adam and Eve had a son, Cain, who hated his brother as long as he was Abel.

Pretty soon all of the early people died off, except for Methuselah, who lived to be like a million or something.

One of the next important people was Noah, who was a good guy, but one of his kids was kind of a Ham. Noah built a large boat and put his family and some animals on it. He asked some other people to join him, but they said they would have to take a rain check.

After Noah came Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jacob was more famous than his brother, Esau, because Esau sold Jacob his birthmark in exchange for some pot roast. Jacob had a son named Joseph who wore a really loud sports coat.

Another important Bible guy is Moses, whose real name was Charlton Heston. Moses led the Israel Lights out of Egypt and away from the evil Pharaoh after God sent ten plagues on Pharaoh's people. These plagues included frogs, mice, lice, bowels, and no cable.

God fed the Israel Lights every day with manicotti. Then he gave them His Top Ten Commandments. These include: don't lie, cheat, smoke, dance, or covet your neighbor's stuff. Oh, yeah, I just thought of one more: Humor thy father and thy mother.

One of Moses' best helpers was Joshua who was the first Bible guy to use spies. Joshua fought the battle of Geritol and the fence fell over on the town.

After Joshua came David. He got to be king by killing a giant with a slingshot. He had a son named Solomon who had about 300 wives and 500 porcupines. My teacher says he was wise, but that doesn't sound very wise to me.

After Solomon there were a bunch of major league prophets. One of these was Jonah, who was swallowed by a big whale and then barfed up on the shore. There were also some minor league prophets, but I guess we don't have to worry about them.

After the Old Testament came the New Testament. Jesus is the star of The New. He was born in Bethlehem in a barn. (I wish I had been born in a barn too, because my mom is always saying to me, 'Close the door! Were you born in a barn?' It would be nice to say, 'As a matter of fact, I was.')

During His life, Jesus had many arguments with sinners like the Pharisees and the Republicans.

Jesus also had twelve opossums. The worst one was Judas Asparagus. Judas was so evil that they named a terrible vegetable after him.

Jesus was a great man. He healed many leopards and even preached to some Germans on the Mount.

But the Republicans and all those guys put Jesus on trial before Pontius the Pilot. Pilot didn't stick up for Jesus. He just washed his hands instead.

Anyways, Jesus died for our sins, then came back to life again.

He went up to Heaven but will be back at the end of the Aluminum. His return is foretold in the book of Revolution.

___________________________________________________________________________
 - ESA

Keep Your Fork (Story)

This was passed on to me via email; I wanted to share it with my readers.

___________________________________________________________________________

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement."

In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, "Keep your fork." It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!

So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork; the best is yet to come."

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of Heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what Heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

_________________________________________________________________________________

- ESA

Kingdom Visitor (Story)

Once upon a time, in a not too distant land there was a king that loved all the people. Because he had such love for the people, he wanted them to be happy and to love each other as he loved them. One day, he called before him all the magistrates in the land and commanded of them to design a way that would best enable all the people to love one another.

The magistrates gathered and spent much time in council determining the best methods to govern the people that would make them love each other so the king would be happy. They decided on a long list of rules that the people would have to memorize and adhere. They decided on celebration days that would, by their annual repetition, reinforce the rules they established. Further, they set up a system where there would be rewards for those who obeyed the rules and punishment for those who did not.

This, they surmised, was the best way to make the people love each other.

Over the years, the magistrates instructed the people in the rules, meted out the rewards and punishments, and watched the people carefully so they knew who to reward and who to punish. In response, some of the people would either vie with each other to do the most loving acts to gain the best of the rewards, or they followed the rules minimally when they knew they were being watched, lest they face the dreaded punishments.

Then one day, a stranger arrived and set up a temporary home among the people of this kingdom. Within a few days, one of the magistrates presented to her a thick bound volume of the rules. But the stranger handed the book back unopened and, instead, took out her visa which indicated that because she was not a subject of the king, she had diplomatic immunity and thus was not subject to those rules. The magistrate tried to harass her, but she knew that the magistrate could not force their ways on her.

At that time, the king wondered how well the system his magistrates established was working. Were the people truly loving one another as he loved them? Was the system enabling their love for each other to flourish? Or were the people merely following the established set of rules because they sought individually to gain a reward or avoid a punishment? So the king decided to find out for himself. He disguised himself and went out among the people.

Where the magistrates were to be found, people performed all kinds of loving acts, helping one another and more. But where there were no magistrates watching, the poor were left hungry, the cold were left outside alone to fend for themselves, the sick were shoved apart from the healthy, and the outcasts were friendless. There was very little love here.

Then the king spied a young woman, a stranger in this land, and she was doing what the people were not, when the magistrates were not watching. She shared her supper with someone that had none, she helped carry someone's heavy load, and she welcomed the homeless into the rooms she rented so they would not have to suffer the freezing rain and falling snow. Who was this woman?

The king called court the next day and called this woman before him. "I am king of this realm," he told her, "and I have seen what you have done."

"I know of your rules may be different here, your majesty, but as I am not one of your subjects, so your rules do not apply to me."

"So you do not act as you do fearing punishment?"

"No, sir."

"So you do not act as you do expecting reward?"

"No, sir."

The king's cheeks started to glisten with tears and he stepped down from his throne and faced the woman eye-to-eye. "Then why do you do the things you do?"

The woman shrugged, "It's just the right thing to do. We're all part of this world, we should help each other."

The king stepped forward and embraced the woman fiercely!

When he stepped back he announced, "Let this be known across the land, this woman has acted with Love for her neighbor, not because of reward, not out of fear of punishment - for she clearly does not expect either. She acted simply out of the Love found in her heart. THIS! This is what I sought for my people. All I simply ask is that they love one another."

Love
thy
neighbor

Weeds and Wheat (Story)

There once was a field planted with the finest seeds of grain. The sun shown down gentle and warm. The ground, freshly tilled, remained moist with the gentle washings of the rain. Pleased with the start, the landowner left the field in charge of the field hands.

Soon the spouts began to grow, bright and green, stretching toward the sun. As the spouts grew, the weeds snaked their roots under the tilled soil and sprouted their own kind in the field. Concerned for the grain, the farm hands took action.

They heated the plants hoping to scorch the weeds. Many wheat stalks withered. The ground became dry and bitter; roots were pulled up when the wind buffeted the field.

The farmhands spread poisons hoping to kill the weeds that way. The wheat itself also sickened, many stalks never gaining the head that grain reaches in its maturity.

As a last resort in their vendetta to kill the weeds, the farm-hands viciously attacked the field, cutting down stalks of wheat as well as weeds, leaving both to wither and die rootless on the side.

At last the weeds were gone. A fraction of the wheat remained in the field, ready to be harvested.

When the landowner arrived, he looked dismayed at the remaining wheat. He cast his eyes to the piles of wheat cut and cast with the weeds on the side, the lines of wheat that had sickened and never matured, and the remnants of the wheat that were scorched so badly, they never had the chance to grow. "What became of the crops I planted?" he inquired of his farmhands.

"The weeds had gotten into the field, Master. But don't worry," they added proudly. "We got rid of them."

The landowner wept bitterly...
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Let those who have ears, hear.

Debate Part 2 - Religion

Following stating my positions on politics in general (last blogpost), I broached the subject of Mormonism. I stated that while I know there has been some bad press on some Mormons, such as underage wives and a second-class treatment of women among them, there are also bright points I have seen too:

• They were the first to respond with aide following Hurricane Katrina - three days before the Red Cross and over a week before State and Federal government responded. They had left two days before the Hurricane made landfall to be there right after it hit.
• Mormons are the only Christian group I have seen who prepare for the "End Times." They store a full seven (7) years of food, water and necessaries to survive practically any natural disaster short of the sun going nova. More importantly, they SHARE that when disaster strikes. ("If you love me, feed my lambs."~Jesus)
• In addition, they require every male and female of 17 years old to go out and preach the words of Christ. They are not to confront anyone, nor are they to fight with someone even if threatened with violence. Many are threatened as they go door-to-door through the neighborhoods. The Church of Latter Day Saints (Mormon Church) also spends money in advertisements that spread the message of "Love your neighbor."

I clearly indicated that I do not mean that Mormonism is the "one true way." I pointed out that it is neither all good, nor all bad. In fact, none of them are. But as soon as I mentioned one good thing of Mormonism, I was slammed. He clearly debated his belief that Mormonism originated from the devil, and continued with, "Mormonism is all bad, all evil. The followers are deceived. Romney is a high priest in this false lying religion leading people into hell..." He added, "There are many seemingly "good" people among Hindus, Buddhists, even Muslims, but they are deceived by false religion."

I replied that I have no doubts that Gandhi is in Heaven right now feasting with Jesus. I got another long tirade following that, including:

• Jesus must be worshiped and received as Lord and Savior, there is no other way to Heaven, no back doors for Hindus or anyone else. In other words, Gandhi could not be saved by acting "Christlike" A PERSON MUST BE BORN AGAIN. You must be bought by the blood of Jesus... Anyone who does what looks right is not necessarily a Christian. The devil can do something that looks good. He is a deceiver..Only the blood of Jesus can get anyone to Heaven. Only those who have been washed in the blood of Jesus, whose sins have been paid for.

He would not be dissuaded from this even when I brought up statements from the bible he hopes I will learn from:

• Matt 7:1 ~ "Do not judge, or you too will be judged."
• Matt 7:16-18 ~ "By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit." 
• Matt 12:50 ~ "Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother!"

Jesus/Yeshua. is not looking for a church of converts; He wants us to simply and completely: Love each other; forgive each other, and help each other. Period. He does not say anywhere "Join my Church or perish ye in the flames of hell!" :*(

My debater told me, "Jesus said He came into the world to divide the sheep from the goats. You have bought into the worst lie of the devil that dishonors Jesus." I believe he refers to a part of Matt 25:32. I argued that JESUS will separate the sheep in the goats. We do not have the Omniscience that He shares with the Father. We are instructed NOT to judge each other.

He argued that: "Judge not means don't judge your brother and sister's lives, but we have the mind of Christ if we are His & we are told to judge all things." Sadly, I have heard this argument many times before. Many fail to recall the ENTIRE passage in Matthew. It begins by these words:

• “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with Him, He will sit on His glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats."

First, Christ has not yet returned in the Second Coming, of which this passage speaks. Second, it clearly states that HE will Judge. Sadly, there are many in the world who feel they are called to be the judges of humanity. This, unfortunately leads to hatred, condemnation, war and hardships that need not be in this world. He compared Romney to Hitler in his blogpost. Why does he not see that he does the very same thing Hitler did with his words of hate?

I learned that it is the adversary who wants mankind divided. Remember, together we can achieve something greater than the sum of our individual efforts. Divisions lead to hate, and to war. Feeling you are part of a group (or even individually) "higher" than another or are "the chosen ones" leads to pride, segregation and prejudice.

Christ taught: Love one another. Love those you see as your enemy. Pray for those who persecute you. And - one many forget - forgive one another. In drawing these lines, do we do any of these?

I know that there are good souls in all religions of the world. I know with absolute certainty, that one does not need to follow a Church to follow Christ. We need to follow what He teaches and the path is open to us. Period.

I had asked my debater thrice if he was a descendant of Abraham, if he had blood ties to the 12 tribes of Israel. Why? Also from the bible, Christ speaks these words:

• Matt 15:24 ~ Then Jesus said to the woman, "I was sent only to help God's lost sheep--the people of Israel."

Yet after the Resurrection, Christ proclaims:

• John 10:16 ~ "I have other sheep, too, that are not in this sheepfold. I must bring them also. They will listen to my voice, and there will be one flock with one shepherd."

Interestingly enough, the accounts in the Book of Mormon that speak of Jesus, say the interactions with those in North America take place after the Resurrection.

There are also accounts in southwestern Native American history that speak of a visitor who taught them to love one another, and forgive one another. One witness realized it was the Christ of whom the newly-seen "white man" had spoken, yet added: "But He was not like what they say He is. He is not pale like the white man, but dark skinned like the People." Which is actually true. He is not as dark as some from the African continent, but does have the dark-olive complexion of the middle-east. Ironically, many may mistake him as "terrorist" if He walked in America today.

Are the Mormon accounts true then? I honestly do not know. Sadly, I was not able to continue this debate as my debater had unfollowed me when I asked the question about Abraham. I do not even know if he read them, and I had no chance to share the final passages above.

What I've been given to know is simply this: We are called to Love one another. That means unity, not division. We are called to be humble; that means not proclaiming your belief is greater than another. We are called to share and care, that does not mean wishing others go to hell. We are called to Forgive, not "convert" others to your way of thinking; that's campaigning which politicians do. Campaigning does not teach, does not love, and certainly does not forgive... 

Love one Another.
Please...
:*(

~ ESA

Debate Part 1 - Politics

While I put my twitter account on hiatus, I do check my DM messages. I made the mistake of reading and responding to a blogpost someone sent me. The blogpost spoke vehemently against US Presidential  candidate Mitt Romney, comparing him to Hitler and calling him the antiChrist. Why? Because Romney is Mormon.

*sigh*

I started my response by saying I don't prefer to discuss politics. My political point of view runs along these lines:

• I chose to be "Independent" because I had to choose some party when I registered and I wanted neither Democratic nor Republican. Sadly, Joe Lieberman (a Republican wolf in sheep's clothing) switched to the "Independent" party when he lost the Republican primaries one year. Now I search for another non-affiliate party. 
• The leader we choose should be chosen not based on the group affiliations, the amount of money he has (or raises for the political campaign), nor the color of his skin, but by the content of his (or her) character.
• I believe strongly we should have a legitimate "None of the Above" option on voting ballots - from President to Town Clerk. Too often we are left to decide who is the "lesser of the two (or more) evils." If we could vote "None of the Above" and force those who parley for our attention and votes to get out of the way, perhaps better choices would rise. Or perhaps politicians would spend more time resolving real issues and spending less time campaigning.
• I believe strongly that ANY political leader who has any say in a budget should live on minimum wage for at least 5 years - without using any savings (including a mortgage-free home) and without breaking any laws, including "working under the table" (cash only, no income taxes). In all honestly, those who manage to live as such at or below poverty level have a MUCH better sense in how to budget than those who can loose a few thousand dollars without a concern.
• I believe we should eliminate the Electoral College in America. That was established when it took weeks to send a message and the country was far smaller. Now, every single vote should count.
• I also believe that EVERY American 18 years or older should have the right to vote. Sadly, there are parts of this country where people are no longer allowed to vote - even though they are legitimate US Citizens. The laws require the people have certain ID's (like a State issued Driver's License). Not everyone drives. Even the State issued, non-license ID's cost a great deal of money. If you had to choose to vote once per year or eat for a month, which would you choose? Sadly, that is a decision some are forced to make. Then, there are the homeless. Whether these people reside in a temporary homeless shelter, live in their car or are in a cardboard box on the street, they can not obtain these ID's for they do not have a legitimate "home" address. Even if they have a Post Office Box to receive the mail, the laws clearly indicate that is not good enough to obtain the "proper ID" needed to vote. Many of our poor are unable to vote in our election systems.

Sadly, I also believe that no matter how strong the moral character a leader has, it will be SORELY tried in the viperous den of DC... There are very strong influences to protect what they have built there, and way too many corporations have strings tied to the politicians.

• Thus I also believe there should be no corporate campaign contributions. There should also be a law stating that those who contribute can NOT influence decisions after the election. Oh, how quickly campaign dollars would dry up if that came to fruition.

Did you know that when America was founded, those who were its first Senators and House Representatives were VOLUNTEERS! Yes, they did not receive a penny (or even half-penny) for their work. They did so because they loved their country. That is why politicians have so much vacation time; that was when they were to go back home to work on their farms and businesses to earn a living for their families. Now they earn millions, have full-paid benefits that most of us can only dream about, including extravagant health-care while millions go without it, and even paid room and board while they "work" in DC.

- ESA

No Passing

On the way back home, we ended up behind a McDonald's truck that has the images of food on the sides and a sheath of fries in the back. The words above the fries read "No Passing." Given we were stuck behind the slow-moving truck for a while, we had time to discuss this.

Having traveled by road often, I've seen signs for "No Passing" on the backs of trucks before. It simply means this vehicle is way too big for you to see around and it would be down right stupid to try to pass this large vehicle on a winding country road - even in a passing zone. 

But the image of fries led to many other possible meanings. I'm sure the advertisers would like the interpretation that we can't pass up the opportunity to get some of those mouth-watering fries. It sets into our mind the temptation, so the next time we see a McDonald's we may stop and buy some. 

Then there was another interpretation - a darker one: No passing, as in no passing the fries to someone else. When people sit around a meal at a table, we ask one another to "pass" the food to us so we can partake. We are sharing the food before us. This thus reads - do not share. Keep all the good food to yourself. Be greedy.

There are actually a number of commercials in America that clearly indicate this is what we should do. Skittles, for example, encourages not only the fact that we hoard the candy to ourselves but that we should actually harm another who may want some.

That led us to wonder about the statement on this truck. Do they simply mean don't pass the truck; it's unsafe? Do they mean don't pass up an opportunity to get these fries? (Not too healthy, but still reasonable advertising.) Or do they mean don't share the fries? 

What does it mean to those of us viewing the image? With all the other corporate conditioning we receive through our life, how do we read this?

In the end, I chose to read it this way: Drive Safely; Share the Fries.
- ESA

Machimoodus

Yesterday, my husband and I hiked in a State Park known as Machimoodus. "Machimoodus" is a term the local Native Americans gave the place well before English Colonials moved out of the Plymouth Bay (MA) area in the early 1600's. It means simply "Land of Noise." The perfect place for a nice quiet walk to get back in touch with nature.

There are trails that are level, and ones that are super steep. There are broad, level, wide-open fields that were once farmland and winding paths up and down the wooded hills, granting occasional vistas and views of the nearby waterways.

Despite the name, it is a quiet place. The name's origin is based on an interesting geologic feature. The particular make-up of the land actually amplifies the noises of the earth. For centuries there have been moans, rumbles, roars, creaks, cracking and crashing sounds that echo mysteriously through the woods. Legends include dragons fighting, gods moving in the earth, and an underground battle between good/white-witches and the devil. We know now there are very small earthquakes ("micro-quakes') in the area (1.0 or less on the Richter scale). It's too small for people to feel, but they can actually be heard there.

My husband and I have visited this place a few times, now, and haven't managed to be there for any strange noises. It's quiet enough to hear the distant planes 15,000 feet overhead, the rustle of bluejays through the pine trees, the chitter of a squirrel eating acorns, or the lapping of wind-generated waves gently lapping the sides of the riverbank.

Yesterday, we took advantage of the lack of snowfall to explore off-trail. In the summer and fall, the wild briars are thick and puncture many layers of clothing. With just jeans and pull-overs, we were able to explore areas we could not easily accessed before. There were wonderful discoveries of old fields, hilltops with beautiful vistas, little sheltered coves surrounded by bare-branched trees, an abandoned Christmas Tree farm still standing in ruler-straight rows, and animal tracks of a wide variety, including local wolf-coyote mix.

That is what I treasure most on these day-trips, the chance to explore off the beaten path. For when I do, I see far more than the common sights. While the cleared paths are easier to walk, and leave you with more chance of someone finding you if something goes wrong, going off-trail, we see far more wildlife, and many more beautiful scenes, great and small, that many others miss when they stick to the trail.

How much is life like that? We walk the everyday trails, living life day-by-day, rarely venturing off the wide road to explore the narrow ones - or even go where there is no trail at all. But when we do, there is SO MUCH MORE to see.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black

Oh, I kept the first for another day

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling them with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by 

And that has made all the difference

~ Robert Frost

- ESA

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The Fisherman (Story)

This is another story I wrote and wanted to share with my readers here. Please enjoy. :)
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The Fisherman

The dawn had barely kissed the eastern horizon, lightening the clouds with a peach blush when the fisherman reached the dock slip where his boat was tied. Piled in his arms was an old but well-maintained net that carried the scent of fish and saltwater within its webbing. The morning breeze was gentle but continuous; gulls and other seabirds called to one another as they rode the air currents rolling along the shore.

The lone fisherman lowered his bundle to the dock and climbed down into his small boat, transferring the net to its place at the bow. This was once a pleasurable weekend past-time, but lean times had come to his part of world. He lost his job a month ago and his wife was barely holding on to the part-time clerical job she had. While their meager savings helped keep a roof over their head, the days he could dedicate to fishing helped keep food on the table and -- on occasion -- bring in a little more money too.

Checking the fuel gauge on the tank, he pumped the knob on the line to bring gas up to the outboard motor clamped to the back of his small boat. Habitually, he checked around the propeller to make sure it was clear and yanked the line hard, starting the little motor humming.

While alone in his boat, he wasn't the only one on the docks this hour. Several other fishermen were also underway - seemingly more every day he went out; all bringing home smaller catches. Pondering this, he maneuvered his small craft away from the docks and into the open water, where he cranked the motor to full power and felt the familiar vibrations run through his palm and up his arm.

He decided to try his favorite spot one last time, hoping to catch something. He got there early, cut the motor and cast his net into the sea. He poured himself a cup of still-hot coffee from his thermos and watched the waters beside his quiet boat. Not a ripple, not a stir. The larger fishing vessels chugged past him at a respectable distance, heading out to deeper waters. What would be the catch today? he wondered.

After a while, he concluded that, once again, there would be no fish here today. He grunted with the effort of hauling in the dripping nets, arranging them as he drew them in, so he could recast them. He started his motor and turned the bow toward where the larger vessels had gone. I'll find some fish in the deeper waters, he told himself, not really convinced. The motor's hum became a roar as he opened the throttle fully and the little boat leapt ahead.

Once he reached the deeper water, he cut the motor and paused, waiting and watching to see if the fish would approach. While he waited, he choked down a sandwich, ignoring the tang of the salt that transfered from his hands to the bread. First one, then another, soon a small school swam past and under his boat, as it rocked gently on the waves. Ah, this will do nicely, he thought. He cast his net into the sea and waited, hoping to have some catch to take home to his family. But doubt still enshrouded his heart, casting the small hope in darkness.

Even though fish swam past his boat, when he hauled in the net for the second time, it was as before - empty. The fisherman cursed as he hauled the heavy wet net onboard. I can't come home empty-handed again. Not again! He arranged the net for one final attempt and then sat in the stern to consider his next and final location carefully. The sun had already started its decent, and the gentle breeze had turned gusty bringing the scent of distant rain. The fisherman cast his eyes heavenward and called out "Hey, up there! Can't you help a man out down here? I'm just trying to feed my family. That's all! Give a guy a break whydon'tcha?"

Not waiting for an answer, he yanked the cord on the motor taking out some of his frustration. He checked the gauge on the tank and calculated where he was to go by what he needed to get back to shore, pushing further out. When he reached the last place, he spied fish coursing just below the surface, practically leaping out of the water as their dorsal fins broke through to the salty air. The fisherman grinned ear-to-ear. He cut the motor and cast the net immediately from his boat that was lightly tossed by the rolling waves.

He waited and he watched. He watched and he waited. The fish danced to their own rhythms beneath the waves - all deftly avoiding his net. As the sun sank in the western sky, dark clouds moved in quickly to cover it. The wind blew fiercer, tasting of rain now - cold and damp to the skin. The fisherman shivered and cursed even harder as he yanked in the net for the last time. In his anger, he tore it, setting off a long string of curse words and any thing his mind could use to season them.

He started the motor and kicked the empty net before him in disgust. Turning his little boat around, he headed back to shore. All that money for the dock rental and the gas to run this stupid boat out here - WASTED! He was in a foul mood by the time he reached the docking slip. The sky was leaden grey with the approaching sunset and incoming storm, helping to further darken his spirits.

When the fisherman reached his slip, he saw a man sitting there dangling his feet from the dock. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt below his shoulder-length hair, a very common sight among the docks. When the man saw him approach, he smiled brightly through his beard, then got up and helped to guide the boat home into its berth as through he had done this countless times before.

"Thanks," the fisherman grumbled, "but if you're looking to buy some fish from me tonight, you're out of luck. My net was empty all day. I don't even have a catch to share with my family."

"That's a shame," replied the stranger as he turned to face the wind and water, "I know there are fish out there." Then his contemplative look brightened. "Say! I know a spot that always has fish; it's not too far from shore either." He turned to the fisherman with a light sparkling in his eyes. "I could show you if you'd like."

 

The fisherman shook his head wearily as he hauled the net up onto the dock. "Sorry. It's getting late and I have no running lights for night. Besides," he scowled, "I tore my net hauling in the last cast. I need to take it home and repair it."

The stranger sat down beside the dripping net, ignoring the pool of water that snaked its way toward his dry jeans. "I can help there; I know how to mend nets." As if he knew where to go, his hand reached out and found the place the net was torn. Deftly, he worked the webbing and knotted the hole closed. Then he handed the section back to the fisherman to inspect.

The fisherman was awestruck. "How did you do that so quickly?"

The stranger smiled openly and laughed an easy laugh. "I've had lots of practice over the years."

The fisherman studied the stranger a moment, not sure what to say or make of this man.

"Shall I show you this spot I know?" the stranger asked again.

"Uh... Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate you helping me with my net, but I'm also out of gas. I don't think you can magically make my gas tank full again...?" he chuckled with a blend of amusement and sarcasm.

"I don't need to," the stranger replied as he rose to his feet and pointed to the oars lying on either side of the boat.

The fisherman barked a bitter laugh. "I don't know about you, but my arms are tired from hauling this net in and out three times today."

Wordlessly, the stranger hopped down into the boat, placed the oars in the oarlocks and sat ready to pull them with hands that were used to hard work.

The fisherman stood there mute and dumb. Maybe I fell asleep out there and I'm dreaming all this... He shrugged and hauled his net back into the boat, sitting down beside it as the stranger pulled against the oars setting them back out across the water again.

The fisherman pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed-dial button. "Yeah, it's just me. I wanted to tell you I'll be getting home a bit later... No, I'm fine. There's a guy here that wants to show me a spot where the fish are. We shouldn't be long... Don't worry. I'll be careful.... Yes, I see the rain too. I should have time enough for one last trip before full dark though.... OK, love you too."

As the stranger checked their course over his shoulder and started a rhythmic rowing he faced the fisherman and asked, "Have you ever read the children's book 'The Little Engine That Could'?"

The fisherman smiled, "Yeah. When my kids were young. That was one of their favorites. 'I think I can, I think I can...' Why do you ask?"

"Why haven't you listened to the book's message?"

"What message?"

The stranger paused and let the boat drift forward under its own momentum. "You need to believe in something to make it happen."

"That works for kids, but reality sets in when your an adult."

The stranger shook his head, "It's the same no matter your age. That's why children can understand it better. They don't have the false notions that life places in our heads when we're older. If you think you can - you can. That's it."

"So what does that have to do with where the fish are?"

He released one oar to gesture over the rippling water as the oncoming storm's wind created whitecaps around them. "There is your hill." Then he pointed to the net. "There is your train. Haul it over the hill if you can."

I've got a loony in my boat, the man thought to himself, but he stood up to cast the net once again, trusting the stranger for some unknown reason.

"You don't have the right mindset," scolded the stranger with a gentle smile. "You really need to think it. Not just think it, but believe it with your whole heart."

"The 'I think I can, I think I can' thing?"

"Exactly! Try it. Trust in yourself. Trust that the fish will be there and that they will come into your net."

 

The fisherman shrugged and cast the net out again. Immediately there was a tug on the lines. Both men watched over the side of the rocking boat as the fish streamed into the net, weighing it down tremendously. 

The stranger laughed in delight, "See! I told you! It's a great spot." The two worked side by side hauling in the net. The net was so full of fish; it could not be hauled into the boat, even with their joint efforts. "Let's pull into the shore there," the stranger suggested pointing toward the beach. "The people there can help."

The fisherman hung unto the net dearly as the stranger rowed toward the shore with renewed energy. The fisherman's heart sang in joy. "What a catch! Can you believe it? In all my years, I've never seen the like!"

"I have. It's great - something wonderful!"

"It is," the fisherman agreed and grinned ear-to-ear despite the rain that started to pour down on their heads. 

The rain passed quickly and the dark clouds with it. By the time they reached the shore, the sun was peeking below the clouds, and kissed the western horizon. Soaked head-to-toe and still elated, the fisherman called to those on the shore. "Ahoy! If you could help us haul in this catch, I'll share it with you. Com'on! We need the help!"

Puzzled looks were exchanged between the onlookers, but they waded out into the water. First one, then two, soon a whole group gathered taking the net in hand and following the fisherman's instructions to safely land the huge catch they had made.

While they were hauling in the net, the fisherman turned to the stranger beside him, also tugging on the heavy net. "You've earned at least half of this for showing me what you did." I'll share my half with these people; you can take home or sell the rest - whatever you want."

The stranger smiled and shook his head. "I don't need any of this catch, not now. But I will ask you a boon."

"Whatever you want. You've made my day."

"There are others who are hungry. Take what you would give to me and feed them."

The last words rung a chord somewhere deep inside the fisherman and he paused in shocked stillness a moment. With an overwhelming feeling of awe, he slowly turned to face the man beside him -- to really take a good hard look at who he was -- but that man was gone, leaving him to distribute the catch and head home with a remarkable "fish story" to tell.